


they show their truth (one single time)

by Anonymous



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Consequences, Hopeful Ending, Identity Reveal, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, No underage, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Power Imbalance, Reconciliation, Slut Shaming, Team as Family, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25504270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: They’d all taken it as a given that the photo had been faked, at first.The story had broken during the last stages of renegotiating the Accords, while Natasha and the others labelled as “the Rogue Avengers” had been holed up in Wakanda, and Thor and Bruce had been settling the refugee Asgardians in New Asgard. None of them had been around for the direct fallout, and neither Tony nor Rhodey had spoken a word of it when they’d all returned.CRADLE ROBBER??? TONY STARK CAUGHT WITH INTERN! [EXCLUSIVE PHOTOS.]Or:The aftermath of disaster in Tony and Peter’s lives, and everything that follows, as told by Natasha Romanoff.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Avengers Team, Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 71
Kudos: 375
Collections: Anon Works by E, Anonymous





	they show their truth (one single time)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So this is my first starker fic, published on anon because I just really don’t want the hassle. I hope you all enjoy it! 
> 
> For posterity, please let it be known that I do not condone this kind of relationship in real life; it is supremely fucked up when it happens! I even talk about that in this very fic, it's kind of a major theme! But this is a fictional world where I make the rules about the way the relationship develops, and also radioactive spider bites result in superpowers, so. There is a fantasy relationship dynamic here that I am interested in exploring, which is the sole purpose and intent of this fic. If anything tagged makes you uncomfortable, please take care of yourselves and exit the fic posthaste. I understand it’s not for everyone, no hard feelings. 
> 
> Title from “illicit affairs” by Taylor Swift, from which this whole idea sprang forth, because holy shit. I mean: 
> 
> _And you wanna scream  
>  Don't call me "kid," don't call me "baby"  
> Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me  
> You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else  
> Don't call me "kid," don't call me "baby"  
> Look at this idiotic fool that you made me  
> You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else  
> And you know damn well  
> For you, I would ruin myself  
> A million little times_
> 
> I MEAN

Natasha looks over at Tony and Bruce, standing on opposite sides of a large holo-table, mirror images as they observe the molecular simulations FRIDAY is drawing and re-drawing in the air between them. 

“-oesn’t make any sense, it can’t be that, the spectral decomposition rate is way too high to keep stable as long as this has.” 

“Yeah, except we’ve tried every permutation of every element that falls within the correct range, ergo-” 

“Tony I’m telling you, it’s got to be something else!” 

This is the first major mission the newly reformed Avengers have worked on since they all came back together, and it is… not going well. An old HYDRA cell, having laid low for the past few years, started attacking civilian targets with an unknown neural gas that caused hallucinations, intense seizures, and eventually death. There’s been three attacks so far: a mall in Brooklyn, a park in Manhattan, a bar in Hell’s Kitchen. Random, small-scale tests, clearly precursors to a larger event. 

26 people are dead so far. 5 of them were children. 

The team is arrayed around the Compound’s common room. The majority of them are pouring over maps, files, and incident reports, trying to work out where the group might strike next. Tony and Bruce have been trying to identify the gas, in the hope they might be able to create an antidote. The only ones missing are Wanda and Thor; they’ve gone to the Compound’s medical facilities where the remaining victims are currently being quarantined, to provide whatever comfort and solace to the afflicted that they can. 

None of them have slept more than a few hours in the last 3 days; there’s been an attack every 24 hours, almost to the minute, within that time period, and time is rapidly slipping away as they hurtle towards the deadline for the next. 

Tempers are, needless to say, a little high. 

“Guys, come eat.” Steve looks over at them from where he’s slumped over the coffee table. He’s got a carton of pad thai in his lap that he’s been half-heartedly picking away at, somewhat hypocritically, for the last half hour. 

Natasha and Bucky are the only ones who’ve finished their food, having had long practice in compartmentalizing the nausea and anxiety that goes along with a tough case in order to take care of basic physical needs. They can also push aside those needs at will, when the situation calls for it, but they both know well that there’s no point in starving themselves over stress now. 

“Seriously, you’ve been going around in circles. Take a break and get back to it once you’ve eaten some damn food.” That’s Sam, shaking his half-eaten carton of fried rice in their direction. 

Bruce sighs, then walks over. To Natasha’s mild surprise, Tony follows after only a moment’s hesitation. Bruce picks up a container and settles himself on the couch next to her, surprisingly unselfconscious. She smiles at him, a little reflexively. Years in space had changed something in him, but his returning smile is familiar. 

Natasha’s glad to see that it’s Rhodey who holds out Tony’s food to him, then gestures at the expanse of empty couch next to him. After the briefest hesitation, Tony takes the food and sits, back straight, shoulders tense. 

For a few minutes, the room is filled with nothing but the faint sounds of chewing and the soft scraping of cutlery against cardboard packaging. Then Steve sighs. 

“No luck?” 

Bruce looks at Tony first, then replies when he doesn’t move to answer. “None. We can’t even identify the substance, and until we can do that then we can’t begin to figure out how to neutralize it, let alone cure the people who’ve been exposed.” 

“You really do need to take a break; you’re too close to this.” Steve’s voice is firm, authoritative. Natasha waits for Tony to bristle against the assumption of authority, but he remains silent.

“What we need is fresh eyes.” 

“Could Cho-?” 

“She’s looking, and she’s a brilliant doctor, but she’s not a biochemist. Besides, she’s got her hands full just with symptom management. SHIELD’s got their people working on it, but-” 

“SHIELD doesn’t have anyone on your guys’ level, we know.” 

“There’s a couple people I can think of, but they’d have to go through the vetting process…”

“We can’t allow too many people to get near this, it’s too dangerous.” 

“What are our options, then?” 

Tony shifts in his seat. Next to him, Rhodey’s head turns, staring hard, brow deeply furrowed. 

“Tony…”

Steve straightens up, fixing his gaze on Tony. “You know someone?”

Tony barks a short, humorless laugh. “You could say that.”

“Tony, I don’t-” Rhodey’s voice is low, forbidding. 

“He’s the most brilliant biochemist I’ve ever met, Rhodey. That includes Bruce, and myself. He’s been vetted by SHIELD, multiple times. And… he’s still got his clearance and all his permissions in my system.”

Rhodey stands up from the couch. “Jesus, Tony.” 

“I haven’t- I just haven’t got around to it yet, ok? And I’m saying he could help. I’m not suggesting- We can put the data on a tablet and an agent or someone can deliver it to him.” He sighs, and runs a hand through his hair. “I’d honestly be surprised if he hasn’t been working on it himself, after the footage from the bar leaked. He’s like that.” 

Someone had caught the direct aftereffects of the last attack on their phone camera and uploaded it to Twitter. SHIELD had taken it down immediately, but the damage had been done. As far as the public knew, it had been the result of a gas leak, but online conspiracy forums had gone wild, correctly pointing out the symptoms exhibited by the afflicted didn’t exactly match carbon monoxide poisoning. 

“Okay, either of you planning to clue the rest of us in anytime soon, or...?” Sam says, looking back and forth between the two of them. 

Steve stands as well. “If you know someone who can help…” 

Tony looks up at him. His voice and face are uncharacteristically neutral when he says, “Peter Parker could do it.” 

The silence that follows is abrupt. 

They’ve avoided talking about it, the group of them. The story had broken during the last stages of renegotiating the Accords, while Natasha and the others labelled as “the Rogue Avengers” had been holed up in Wakanda, and Thor and Bruce had been settling the refugee Asgardians in New Asgard. None of them had been around for the direct fallout, and neither Tony nor Rhodey had spoken a word of it when they’d all returned. 

Natasha remembers the visceral shock she’d felt, upon seeing the headline and photo:  _ CRADLE ROBBER??? TONY STARK CAUGHT WITH INTERN! [EXCLUSIVE PHOTOS] _

The photo was later revealed to have been taken with an illegal drone and zoomed in from a long distance. As a result it was blurry, but not enough to obscure the image of Tony pressing a young brunette man against the edge of his Manhattan apartment’s balcony, kissing him deeply, the man’s legs wrapped securely around his waist. The man had been identified as NYU grad student Peter Parker, aged 20, Tony Stark’s personal intern and grant recipient. 

They’d all taken it as a given that the photo had been faked, until they’d arrived at the Compound to discover the deep rift between Rhodey and Tony, the former infuriated, the latter silent. 

Natasha is peripherally aware of the variety of emotions playing across the others’ faces, but she keeps her gaze trained on Tony. He’s hunched over slightly, face carefully impassive. When he notices her looking, he straightens, shoulders squaring, eyes meeting hers resolutely. 

She raises an eyebrow at him. 

He nods. 

“Alright,” she says, everyone turning to look at her. “Upload the info, Tony. Steve and I will deliver it.” 

Tony opens his mouth, maybe to argue, but closes it at the look on her face. Then he nods again and moves to put together the information, without further complaint.

* * *

Peter Parker lives in a rundown apartment complex in Queens. 

That’s a little surprising to Natasha, but it probably shouldn’t be. She’s read plenty about his speculated gold-digging ways; poor kid from the bad part of town, going after his rich boss to get ahead in life on his back, not his merits. She hadn’t really thought about whether it was true or not, but the tabloids had apparently been correct that Parker was not well-off. 

A young black woman opens the door when she knocks. Her face is guarded, but neutral, when she opens the door with a polite, “May I help you?” 

Then she registers who they are. 

Natasha is impressed, honestly, with the rapid way she collects herself. She looks shocked for only the briefest of moments, before her face settles into firm, determined lines. She draws herself up and centers herself in the doorway, filling it as much as she can with her slim body. Her voice is steely when she asks again: “What do you want?” 

Steve shifts next to her, and she can tell from his voice that he approves as well. “We’re looking for Peter Parker, is he home?” 

Her gaze flickers between them. “Why do you want to know?” 

“MJ.” 

She turns, scowling now, to look behind her. 

Peter Parker is compactly built, maybe a little short for a guy, but leanly muscled. Warm brown eyes, tousled curls, sharp jawline. He’s holding himself carefully, joints loose but feet firmly planted and evenly spaced. Not quite a fighting stance, but ready to transition into one at a moment’s notice. He’s been trained, it’s clear, and Natasha gets the sense that he’s stronger than he looks. 

“Can-” his voice cracks, and he flushes dully as he clears his throat and tries again. “Can I help you?” 

Natasha holds up the tablet, both Stark Industries’ and SHIELD’s logos emblazoned across the back. “As a matter of fact, you can.”

* * *

Peter ushers them into his warm, cramped kitchen. The woman- MJ- has left. She’d apparently been on her way out when they’d arrived, and despite her obvious reluctance had eventually caved to Peter’s muttered assurances that he was fine, actually, and could handle himself. 

“You’re lucky it wasn’t my other roommate who was home when you got here, we’d never have gotten rid of him. He’s uh, a big fan.” Peter says. 

He gestures at the table and its three rickety wooden chairs. Steve shakes his head with a polite, empty smile, opting instead to stand, propping up a wall near the entrance to the kitchen. Natasha does take him up on the offer, looking with interest at the scattered papers covering the table’s surface. 

Her gaze snags on something familiar and she picks one up, frowning. Looking at the others, she sees variations on the same theme, models that she’d previously seen projected into the air only a few hours ago. 

Looks like Tony was right. 

“Uh, sorry, I can get those- that’s just-” 

“What we’re looking for, I think.” She says mildly, turning the paper to show Steve. He frowns too, but she can tell he’s impressed. 

Peter looks between them, then deflates like a balloon, ducking his head slightly. He drops into an empty chair with a thud, and rubs the back of his neck. 

“Okay, yeah, I uh…” 

“How’d you get started?” 

“Uh…” 

She eyes him, and for a minute he looks a little panicked. He takes a deep breath. 

“I have a- um, friend, who works near the bar in Hell’s Kitchen. He told me about what happened and col- and so I went there to collect a sample. This isn’t really a gas, it’s aerosolized liquid, so it left a film all over the surfaces in the bar. Then I snuck- I used the lab at my university to start analyzing it, but I couldn’t, like, stay there, so I made as many notes as I could and took the rest home with me, and so I’ve just been, you know, working on it…” He trails off, looking sheepish. 

Natasha exchanges a look with Steve. “Have we had any reports of a break in at the crime scene?” 

Despite his continuing frown, he sounds more amused than anything when he says, “Nope. None whatsoever.” 

She looks over at Peter again. She expects him to shrink away, but instead he meets her gaze squarely. She raises a brow. 

“You realize that’s a felony, right?” 

He nods, a little jerkily, determination not diminished in the slightest. “People are getting hurt- that wasn’t the only attack, right?” 

“Who says it was an attack at all?” 

That breaks through Peter’s lingering nerves entirely, and he rolls his eyes. “Come  _ on _ . Three unspecified “gas leaks” in roughly the same geographic area in three days, and the sites where they happened are guarded by SHIELD agents? Plus, you guys are, you know,  _ here _ . I’m guessing-” His voice falters for a moment, but this time she suspects it’s not due to nerves. “I’m guessing you were told I’d be looking into it. If people in New York are getting hurt, and I can help, then I’m going to.” 

She exchanges another long look with Steve. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t this. She  _ likes _ Peter, and so does Steve, she can tell. Which… complicates things, to say the least. She’ll need to set aside time to sort through her emotions at a later date, and makes a mental note to take Rhodey aside when time permits. 

For now, however, they’re on a deadline. 

She sets the tablet down on the table and slides it over to Peter. “This contains everything Tony and Bruce have put together so far, including notes from the physician we have overseeing the victims.” She watches him closely, but notes that he doesn’t so much as twitch at Tony’s name. He’s absorbed in the tablet, placing a hand on it for a palm print scan without needing to ask, eyes flickering over the data that crops up when it unlocks. 

“Is that Dr. Cho, who’s looking after them?” He asks, not looking away from the screen. 

Natasha tilts her head, intrigued. “Yes. You know her?” 

Peter nods. “Of course.” His eyes flicker up to meet hers, briefly, then refocus on the tablet. “I, um. Well a lot of my work at Stark Industries was in biochem, since that’s kind of one of my… things, I guess. So a lot of it ended up having medical applications.” 

Natasha nods, and hears Steve shift in the background. “Well, the tablet is connected to both SHIELD’s servers and SI’s, so it will update live with anything the other teams come up with while they’re working. They’ll get your updates too.” 

Peter nods again, absently, then lays the tablet flat on the table. He taps the screen twice, and it projects a molecular model in the air in front of him. Immediately he starts gesturing, reworking the structure in front of them. 

Natasha looks at her watch. Edging into midday. “Is there anyone you need to make your excuses to? A boss, a professor? You might be here awhile.” 

His expression twists, briefly, but he keeps his eyes resolutely on the model. “We’ll see about that, but no. I- well. My program supervisor asked me to take a semester off, until things, um, calm down a bit. And I work odd jobs, mostly. So no one’s expecting me.” 

Steve shifts again behind her. 

SI hadn’t made any statement about the incident, but sources had reported that Peter was no longer listed as an intern there. Tabloids had captured Peter out in public only a handful of times since the scandal broke, but Natasha suspects that’s more due to Peter’s care in going unnoticed than the press’ lack of trying. She’ll have to check the file SHIELD must have on Peter to be sure- and she makes a mental note to do so- but she guesses the odd jobs he’s taking aren’t exactly in the scientific field. He might be able to go back to his grad program later, when the hubbub dies down, but for now his career has effectively stalled. 

Tony, meanwhile, has been largely unscathed by the entire scandal. Sure, the internet has been pretty harsh on him- #ironpedo had trended for nearly 3 days after the story broke- but he hadn’t, at least publicly, stepped down from his position at SI. The mainstream media, for their part, had treated the story as more of a curiosity- and opportunity for jokes- than anything else. 

It’s one of the reasons why they’d assumed the story was fabricated; Natasha couldn’t imagine Pepper having condoned the firing of an intern who’d been preyed on by an executive, regardless of if that executive was Tony Stark. Coming back to find that although there was clearly a rift- nobody’s seen Pepper once, since returning stateside- the fact that Tony had apparently kept his position while Peter had lost his… 

Peter’s mouth thins, but he doesn’t say anything more. He bends over his work, expression going distant in a familiar way. Natasha tries not to think about it too closely, instead settling in to wait.

* * *

It takes Peter a little over 3 hours to crack it. 

Well, it seems to be a group effort, but Peter’s work is clearly the factor they’ve been missing up to this point. Natasha can see messages and files pop up on the hologram, revised and annotated versions of the model, Bruce & Tony building on Peter’s ideas, Peter cannibalizing and restructuring theirs, passing data back and forth so fast that Natasha can’t keep up, for all that she’s not exactly a slouch in the intelligence department.

A notice comes through that they’ve sent the formula to the synthesizer, and Peter slumps in his seat in relief. Steve, who in the intervening time has unbent enough to take up the table’s remaining seat, reaches over to clap him on the shoulder. 

“Nice work, son.” He says, then grimaces immediately. 

Peter grimaces as well, but mercifully doesn’t say anything, just nods. 

Natasha’s phone dings with a message. She checks it, then hums. “Looks like it’s not just the brainiacs who got inspired. Bucky says they think they’ve narrowed down where the cell is.” She pushes away from the table, standing. Steve stands as well, and Peter scrambles to his feet a split-second later. Natasha collects the tablet and reaches out to shake his hand. 

“Thanks for your assistance. SHIELD will be depositing our standard consultant’s fee into your account within 24 hours.” 

Peter splutters, and behind him she can see Steve nod approvingly. “I can’t- what? That’s not why-” 

“You provided your services, you’ll be fairly compensated, same as anyone. Get me?” 

He looks hesitant, but after a moment he nods. “Yeah I- I guess I do. Um, thanks.” 

“Not at all.” She pauses, then leans over so she can swipe a pen from the table, dashing out her number on a scrap of paper. She holds it out to him. “If you have any questions, give me a call. SHIELD could use your talents.” 

His face does something complicated, but he takes the paper from her. “I… I will.” 

She lets her mouth twitch into the slightest of smiles, then turns to leave. She hears Steve bid Peter farewell and fall into step beside her. 

They don’t speak until they’re back in the car. Steve looks over at her from the passenger seat, eyebrow raised wryly. “Does SHIELD even have standard consultant’s fees?” 

She doesn’t look away from the road. “They do now.”

* * *

Natasha gives Peter a week to call. When he doesn’t, she tracks him down. 

Here’s the thing. The team has been… unsettled, since they came back together. They’d known it was going to be difficult. The renegotiations of the Accords had essentially papered over an old wound, but that was a challenge they’d all been prepared to deal with. The scandal and its fallout had been- unprecedented. Devastating. 

Natasha’s dealt with Tony when he’s hurt, when he’s cornered, when he’s angry. She knows how to handle that, how to work through it. But the Tony they came back to- this hollow-eyed, silent, shadow of a man- she doesn’t know what to  _ do _ with that. None of them do. 

If they’re going to fix this, they need to understand more about the situation than they do currently. Luckily, intelligence-gathering is what Natasha  _ does _ .

So she follows him. 

He was telling the truth about mostly picking up odd jobs, it seems. He spends a few hours every other day clerking at some lawyer’s shabby firm in Hell’s Kitchen, probably the friend he’d mentioned that had tipped him off to the gas attack. He also spends time in Harlem, helping a PI there- interestingly, one with enhanced strength- track down a runaway teen. Every morning he does a shift at some sandwich shop in Queens, shelving and hauling supplies, away from the public eye. 

He’s good at getting around unnoticed and unrecognized, she finds, though not nearly good enough to evade her. She’s a professional. 

He spends time with his roommates, sneaks into his old lab at the university periodically, volunteers at a local soup kitchen- 

And spends every night fighting crime as a vigilante. 

Natasha spends over an hour in the training room, mulling over the revelation and imagining Tony’s face on the punching bag she proceeds to nearly destroy. 

Different members of the team troop in and out of the training room as she does, watching her with wide-eyed disbelief and increasing levels of concern. Wisely, none of them say anything to her. 

The facts, as she can see them, are as follows: Tony had been not only Peter’s boss, but also his superhero mentor, for over half a decade. He’d obviously funded Peter’s vigilantism- there’s no way that suit wasn’t Stark tech- alongside paying his salary and his tuition. Peter had been dependent on Tony, more than she’d initially realized, every material portion of his life hinged on their relationship to one another, whatever form that took. And now, despite his brains and his hard work, he’s been left behind, targeted by every two-bit late night talk show host in search of a cheap punchline, effectively suspended from his grad program, scraping by on whatever odd jobs his friends could throw his way. 

And Tony? Tony’s... alone. 

Natasha isn’t  _ blind _ , or heartless- she can see how wounded Tony is. Peter has his friends, a lot of them- from the whispers Natasha’s heard around the Compound, probably more than he even knows. Tony’s lost Rhodey, lost Pepper, lost the team, or lost his ability to integrate into the team, at any rate. 

Tony is her friend, despite it all- everything that happened in Berlin, and before that, and the intervening years since- and she wants to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

She just can’t. 

She presses her forehead against the rough canvas of the bag, taking deep, controlled breaths. She’s sweating, her knuckles are sore, and her chest aches. 

“Nat?” It’s Steve, his brows furrowed in concern. 

She shakes her head at him, but takes the bottle of water he offers, draining half of it in one go. 

“Go shower,” he says, “I’ll take care of the cleanup in here.” 

She nods and checks her watch. 8:00 PM. Just about time for Peter to start his patrol. She makes a decision. 

“I’m going to head into the city. Got this thing I’m working on.” 

He eyes her, brow furrowed lightly. She keeps her face as impassive as ever, though the good it’ll do in the face of a decade of friendship is probably negligible. Regardless, he nods. “Okay. Ping us if you need backup.” 

“Of course,” she agrees, and makes a mental note to keep an eye out for whoever Steve sends to tail her.

* * *

She ends up catching up to Peter sometime around midnight, after shaking the tail- Bucky, because Steve’s not stupid- and laying low for long enough he can’t pick her up again. 

Peter’s sitting on the roof of his apartment building, far out of the reach of the streetlight, scrolling idly through his phone and eating a sandwich. She manages to make it within a few paces of him before he senses her, twisting around with a gasp, phone and sandwich tumbling out of his grip as he leaps to his feet and yanks his mask down in a single, fluid motion. 

He stares at her for a long moment, the eyes on his suit blown out to their widest setting. 

“Hey there, Spider-Man,” she says. 

“Um,” he says. 

She tilts her head down, in the general direction of his apartment’s balcony. “Gonna invite me in?” 

“I… guess?” 

Peter scoops up his phone from where it landed- luckily- on the rooftop, sparing a single mourning glance at his ruined sandwich. They drop straight from the rooftop to his top-floor apartment’s balcony, and Peter slides open the glass door to let her into his quiet, dark living room. 

“Ned and MJ are away for the long weekend,” he says, voice a little high in his distress. “But I’m, um, guessing you knew that?” 

She nods, concealing her smile as he scrambles to flip lights on. She declines his offer of a beverage, then nods when he asks if it’s alright that he changes out of his suit. 

He goes to do that and she takes the opportunity to snoop. It’s a fairly typical college student’s apartment: secondhand furniture chosen for comfort, not style, and a large entertainment system, almost certainly the most expensive thing in the apartment. The walls are lined with a series of bookshelves, crammed with everything from movies and records, to sci-fi novels and textbooks, to a series of binders which, upon inspection, are revealed to contain plastic sleeves of fantasy-themed trading cards. 

Peter comes out of his bedroom wearing a pair of ratty sweatpants and a worn, oversized hoodie with the MIT logo on it. He sinks gingerly into an armchair and watches her nervously as she settles onto the couch. 

“So, uh, what’s going on?” 

“I have some questions for you.” 

“Okay, um. Is this like, Avengers stuff?” 

“It’s… Avengers adjacent.”

“Okay, cool, I guess. Have you been following me? For like, the last two-ish weeks, on and off?”

“I have.” 

“Oh, okay. Um, why?” 

“I wanted to know more about you.” 

“Oh, makes sense. You know you could just, like, ask me things, right?” 

“I said that’s why I was here.” 

“Right. So, what do you want to know?” 

She studies him. “I want to know more about you and Tony.” 

His reaction is instantaneous, and a little unexpected, if Natasha’s being honest. His expression- previously open, if a little confused- shutters, snapping closed like a steel trap. He squares his shoulders, hands curling slightly into fists. 

“I’m not talking about that.” 

“Peter-” 

“No. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but also I kind of don’t owe you anything? Like at all? If that’s all you came here to talk about, then I’m sorry, but you wasted your time.” 

“Alright, okay. We don’t have to talk about that.” She regards him for a moment, watches him relax minutely at her acquiescence. “Why didn’t you call me?” 

“Um, was I supposed to?” 

“I told you SHIELD could use your talents.” 

“Oh. I kind of… thought you were just being polite?” 

She stares at him. 

“...but um, I’m starting to get that maybe that’s not really a thing for you.” 

She raises an eyebrow. 

He slumps a little. “I… appreciate you checking up on me, but I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to go work for SHIELD.” 

She frowns. “You wouldn’t have to do fieldwork; your file makes no mention of Spider-Man, so I’m assuming they don’t know. It would be all research and development, like what you helped us with.” 

“No uh, they definitely don’t know about Spider-Man, T- I made sure of that. But I used to work on SHIELD projects when I was with Stark Industries, and I just- I don’t-” 

“Look. You’re wasted working at a deli, or snapping photos for a PI, or doing paperwork for some lawyer. I think you’ll find that SHIELD’s field of work is a lot wider than the Avengers, or Stark Industries, whatever history you have. And Peter, you could do a lot of good.” 

Peter looks a little stricken. 

“You’ve got something on the go, I’m guessing? Some research you’ve tried to shop around in the past few months, with no takers?” His ears flush red but he nods, shame flickering across his features. “Give it to me. I’ll get it in the hands of the right people. If they like it, great. If they don’t, or don’t want to pursue, then you end up exactly where you are now, right?” 

He bites his lip, thinking hard. Then he nods, a little jerky, and retreats into his room to retrieve it. When he returns, his collar is a little damp, like he took a detour into the bathroom to splash water on his face. 

She stands, reaching out to take the binder he hands her. He sees her out, but stops her in the doorway with the slightest of touches to her wrist. 

“I- thank you, really, for looking out for me. But um, could you maybe not do the following me around thing again? Cause it’s kinda really weird? It’s just, I have this like, spider-sense that goes really haywire-”

“Goodnight, Peter.” 

“Oh, uh, goodnight.”

* * *

She arrives back at her car to find Bucky lounging casually on the hood, slurping the last dregs of a milkshake through an oversized straw. 

“Get what you need?” He asks. 

She gestures with the hand holding Peter’s binder of research. “Yep.” 

“Alright,” he says, and tosses the disposable cup into a nearby trash can. “Let’s go. You’re driving.” 

Natasha smirks. “Obviously.”

* * *

The next time she sees Peter, he's sitting on the outside terrace of a cafe, having coffee with a guy. 

She's not actually looking for him, for once. She'd come into the city for a meeting at SHIELD's base there, and decided to take a stroll around Manhattan for old time's sake. Nobody expects to see the Black Widow just wandering down the sidewalk in the middle of the day, so they don't. 

The guy Peter's with is handsome, maybe late 30's, bearded. He smiles charmingly as he speaks, and Peter's answering smile is small, but genuine enough. 

His shoulders, however, are tense. 

The guy drains his coffee and stands, sliding a napkin across the table towards Peter before leaving, strolling casually down the street. 

Natasha thinks about following him, for a moment, but stops herself from going down that track. She's just feeling misplaced loyalty to Tony; she needs to snap out of it. Instead she takes advantage of a break in traffic to dart across the street, dropping into the chair the man had vacated. 

Peter looks up from where he’s studying the napkin, eyebrows raised.

"How long have you been here?" 

"Not long. Hot date?" 

Peter's expression goes funny for a moment. "Not exactly," he says wryly, gaze flickering down again to the napkin. "Just a… weird guy." 

He folds the napkin and tucks it into his pocket before Natasha can get a clear read on what it says. 

None of her business, anyway. 

“You know, this whole “stalking me” thing is kinda, really not cool?” 

She quirks an eyebrow at him. “First of all, I’m a spy, not a stalker. It’s different. Second of all, I was literally, actually just in the neighbourhood. It’s only a coincidence I saw you.” Actually, now that she mentions it, it’s strange that he’s here. “What are you doing in this area, anyway? Little far afield, for you.” 

He ducks his head. “Uh, well. I had an interview.” 

“SHIELD?”

“Yeah. They um, really liked my work. They offered me a contract; I start on Monday.” He looks up at her through his fringe, a small, pleased smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

She smiles back. “Congratulations.” She has a thought, hesitates, but asks anyway, “Are they setting you up at the Compound? I know that’s where the real heavy-duty labs are.” 

He flushes and looks away. “No, they said I’d have a lab in the building here in Manhattan. It won’t be quite as good as- what I’m used to, but it’ll work. And I can send stuff over to the team at the Compound if there’s any testing or equipment needed that I don’t have.” 

It’s kind, kinder than Natasha thought they’d be. She makes a mental note to track down Maria and thank her- this has her fingerprints all over it, despite her usually not being involved in the hiring process. She knows from idle conversation with Vision that Peter had spent a lot of time at the Compound, over the years, and he’d met- and befriended- a fair few SHIELD agents in that time frame, Maria being one of them. 

Peter draws in a breath. “Hey, uh- thanks. For pushing me. I really appreciate the help.” 

“No help- this is all on you, wunderkind.” She raps her knuckles on the table, then stands. “See you around.”

* * *

She gives him a week to settle in, then ambushes him in his lab and drags him out for lunch. He doesn’t look surprised to see her in the entrance to his lab, shutting down the lights at his station and stripping out of his lab coat with a resigned smile. 

Natasha takes him to her favorite spot, a cramped, greasy spoon type place with too many tables for its square footage and better food than it has any right to. 

Peter watches her order with a smile. She frowns at him. “What?” 

“Nothing. You’re just way more excited for this- well, excited in a you way- than I thought you’d be.” 

“I like the food,” she mutters, not defensively. “I can pretty much only make peanut butter sandwiches, and ordering in to the Compound is a pain. So anything that’s not that or cafeteria food is nice.” 

Peter blinks. “Rhodey doesn’t cook?” 

Natasha raises a brow. “Should he?” 

“Well, uh, yeah? He used to cook for us all the time- the group of us I mean, who were there, you know. He’s really good. But I guess ten people is a lot to cook for.” 

Natasha hums. “Now that you mention it, I seem to remember him being a great cook. We almost never eat together as a group though.” Not once since they’d all returned, outside of missions.

“Oh. I guess I thought… nevermind.” 

They’re silent for the next few minutes. Luckily, it’s not long until their food arrives, breaking up the sudden awkwardness that had descended on the table. 

“So,” Natasha prompts, after the server walks away. “How was the first week?” 

Peter’s face lights up, and he tells her.

* * *

The team doesn’t tend to congregate in any one spot in the Compound, most days.There are daily briefings they all attend, regular minor missions that take them away from the compound in groups of two or three at a time. Other than that, they’re free to structure their time as they please, and as such they usually fall back into old patterns. 

So it’s a bit of a coincidence, then, that so many of them have wound up in the common area today. 

Thor, Rhodey, and Bruce are over by the holo-table, looking over a simulation of New Asgard as Thor enthusiastically explains the progress the town has been making with this year’s harvest. 

Wanda and Vision are seated on one of the couches, watching Bucky and Sam with amusement as they bicker their way through a retelling of one of the unofficial missions they’d completed while on the run. 

Steve’s curled up in an armchair with his sketchbook, headphones on, and from the way his eyes flicker up periodically, he’s drawing Sam and Bucky as they argue. 

Natasha’s in the kitchen, fixing herself a cup of tea and enjoying the sight of the whole team together again, in one place. 

Or nearly the whole team, that is. 

Natasha looks at her watch; it’s nearing noon. 

“Hey guys,” she calls out, cutting through the murmur of conversations. Everyone turns to look at her. “It’s almost lunchtime- should we order in?” 

Receiving a general chorus of agreement, Natasha takes a fortifying sip of tea. As mildly as she can, she says, “Great, if someone wants to grab Tony then we can decide what to order.” 

There’s a beat of silence. Then, to Natasha’s relief, Thor claps his hands together. “I’ll go fetch Stark; you lot begin the discussion. Wherever we order from, I would like it to be somewhere with spicy noodles.” 

Natasha nods. “Thanks Thor.” 

Thor strides out the door and Natasha turns to face the rest of them, most of whom are eyeing her. She glares right back. “So, spicy noodles?”

By the time Thor returns with Tony in tow, they’ve pretty much landed on Thai. Neither man has an objection to that, so FRIDAY places the order, and they all drift back into their previous groupings, Thor steering an unresisting Tony over to the holo-table to join the group there as they discuss more efficient irrigation methods. 

The science talk- and Thor and Bruce’s buffering presence, exuberant and calming by turns- does the work of drawing Tony out of his shell enough that by the time the food arrives, he’s actively contributing to the conversation. It’s nothing like his usual patter, but it’s a start. 

They all settle onto the couches, and after a quick round of negotiations- which Natasha wins- they settle on a movie to watch while they eat. 

As the opening credits roll, Steve catches Natasha’s eye. 

_ Good work, _ he mouths.

* * *

The story breaks when they’re all in the common room, eating breakfast. 

Ever since that first time, they’ve made an effort to eat more meals together, and not just at Natasha’s behest. It’s not all that uncommon anymore for Sam to be heard marching through the hallways, yelling for everyone to get their asses in gear for lunch, or for Wanda to have FRIDAY notify everyone that she’s finished supervising Vision’s most recent foray into cooking, this one’s edible and ready for anyone who’s hungry. Tony has even started to come around periodically to get people’s take-out orders, making rounds and tracking everyone down individually despite the fact that he easily could have asked FRIDAY to do it. 

It was nice. 

They’re lounging in the seating area, some trashy celebrity gossip show playing quietly in the background. There’s an unspoken rule for these gatherings: don’t talk about the job. So they’re talking about nothing in particular, conversation ebbing and flowing naturally as they work steadily through the breakfast spread Sam and Rhodey pulled together. 

Eventually there’s a lull in the conversation, and the tv host’s voice filters in from the background:  _ “-and for our next story, news on America’s best-known gold digger, Peter Parker!”  _

Everyone in the room freezes.

_ “Been a while since we heard about him, eh?”  _

_ “You know how these people are, they never stay out of the limelight for long. They’re incapable of that kind of decency.”  _

_ “And aren’t we just so glad for that, huh? Anyway, what’s Tony Stark’s boytoy doing now?”  _

_ “Not Tony Stark, it seems. No, looks like he’s moved on- to another Avenger. He was spotted in NYC recently with none other than the Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff, looking awfully friendly.”  _

A picture crops up on screen. It’s a paparazzi shot, probably taken long range since clearly neither Peter nor Natasha had noticed a photographer. Despite the host’s insinuations, there’s nothing particularly salacious about the image at all. It’s just the two of them walking down the street, Peter clearly mid-speech, eyes bright and hands gesturing, Natasha smirking a little at whatever he’s saying. It’s so banal that Natasha’s not sure what day it was even taken. 

_ “Damn, what does this kid have that the rest of us don’t, to bag both Tony Stark and Natasha Romanoff? Talk about game.”  _

_ “You have seen him right? Like, you have eyes? I mean, if I looked like that, I’d sleep my way through the Avengers too.”  _

“FRIDAY, shut it off,” Natasha says mildly, and takes a sip of her coffee. 

The whole team turns to face her, but it’s Tony whose eyes she seeks out. He looks confused, wary- not jealous, though he’s smart enough not to be. She quirks an eyebrow at him, but he doesn’t take her up on the invitation. Instead the shock of seeing Peter again- or maybe the host’s insinuations, or the knowledge that Natasha has been in contact with him, or all of it together- has caused him to withdraw, receding back into the hollow-eyed ghost that’s been haunting the Compound since they all returned. 

Weeks of progress, vanishing before her eyes. 

“He works for SHIELD,” she says, and Tony’s attention snaps to her, intense, focused, quivering. 

“Really?” That’s Bruce, sounding thoughtful. Natasha is suddenly reminded that outside herself, Tony, Rhodey, Vision, and Steve, nobody else has actually  _ met _ Peter. An idea begins germinating in the back of her head, but she pushes it back, focusing on the conversation at hand. 

“Of course. He’s entirely too strong an asset for them to pass up. I offered to pass along some of his research and he accepted, and he’s been contracting ever since. I’ve heard he’s been making some waves already.” 

Bruce nods. “I was impressed, when we were working on the neural gas problem.” He hesitates, then continues: “Not surprising; I knew his parents. They were talented scientists, too.” 

Now  _ that’s _ interesting. From the startled look on Tony’s face, it’s news to him too. “Really?” 

Bruce shrugs. “Yeah. Richard and Mary Parker, both biochemists, both worked for Oscorp. We ran in the same circles. I didn’t realize Peter was related, at first, but I looked into it after seeing his work.” 

Natasha files the information away for later investigation. She takes another sip of her coffee. “Well, I’m over at the Manhattan HQ fairly frequently, so Peter and I usually go for lunch when I am.” She eyes Tony, who still looks a little lost, if not as utterly wrecked as he had, for a moment there. She keeps her voice deliberately casual as she adds, “Any of you are welcome to join me sometime, if you like.”

* * *

That night, she walks into her bedroom to find Tony sitting on her bed, elbows resting on his knees, head in his hands. 

She pulls up short on the threshold. Stares at him for a moment, then at her door, which she’s positive she’d left locked. 

“I have an override,” He says, voice hoarse. He doesn’t raise his head.

Which is… predictable, she supposes, but disturbing. She makes a mental note to figure out a way to secure her room beyond FRIDAY’s functions; she’s been meaning to for a while anyway, and she’s pretty sure she knows someone who can help her out. 

“What are you-” 

Tony cuts her off, lifting his head, finally, to fix her with a slightly wild-looking glare. “What the hell are you doing, Nat?” 

“Well, I was going to go to bed.” 

“ _ Nat _ .” 

“Tony.” 

That haunted look from earlier is back. Or maybe hunted would be more accurate. “I don’t know what you want from me.” 

She sighs, deeply, and walks over to sit next to him on the bed. The mattress dips beneath their combined weight, and she leans into the resultant brushing of their shoulders. Lets him feel her warmth and solidity, feels him relax minutely in response. 

“I say this with all possible affection, but this isn’t about you, Tony. Peter’s a good ki- a good person, and I like him. He’s my friend, like you’re my friend.” 

“Am I?” 

She jostles him with her elbow. “Stop that, it doesn’t suit you. I think you can guess how I feel about what went on between the two of you”- she feels him wince, but keeps going- “but this isn’t about that either. I promise you I don’t have an angle here, okay?”

He pauses. “Okay. I- okay.” 

They sit in companionable silence for a moment longer, leaning against one another. Then she hears him say, so low she wonders if she was even supposed to hear it: “What the fuck am I going to do?”

She sighs again and stands, offering a hand. “Well, for now you’re going to get the hell out of my room- and don’t think we won’t be talking about the breach of privacy, by the way- so I can go to sleep. After that? Well, I know you’ll figure it out. You always do.” 

He stares at the hand in front of his nose, blinking, for several long moments. Finally, he reaches out and takes it, allowing her to pull him to his feet.

* * *

She hadn’t really expected anyone to take her up on her lunch invitation, but she is especially surprised when it’s Bruce who chooses to do so. 

He shrugs when she looks askance at him. “Like I said, I knew his folks, and I was impressed with his work. I wouldn’t mind getting to know him better.” 

She shoots Peter a warning text, so by the time she and Bruce arrive at the restaurant, it’s clear he’s managed to work himself up into an awestruck frenzy. 

“Hi Dr. Banner! I’m Peter- Peter Parker? But I guess you knew that, oh. Um, your work on selective protein inhibitors actually kind of changed my life, it was so brilliant. I wish I was joking but I’m really, really not- oh hi Nat.” 

“Hi Peter, nice to see you.” 

“Aw come on, don’t look at me like that. That’s Bruce Banner!” 

Bruce extends his hand, very clearly trying not to laugh. “Nice to meet you, Peter. Thank you for the work you did during the gas attacks. I’m not exaggerating when I say we couldn’t have done it without you.” 

Peter beams.

* * *

That lunch with Bruce is, apparently, the opening of the floodgates. After him it’s Steve, with Sam in tow. Steve spends most of the lunch carefully observing Peter, relying on Sam’s natural charm and humor to carry the conversation. Peter remarks to her afterwards that he feels like the lunch was some kind of surprise test, but Natasha catches both Sam and Steve shooting speculative looks Tony’s way in the weeks following, so she figures he passed. 

Thor comes along next, and Peter is so caught off guard to see him in a sweatshirt and yoga pants, hair pulled up into a messy bun, that he forgets to be awed. Then it’s Wanda and Vision, which ends with Vision clapping his hands firmly on Peter’s shoulders and telling him he’s been missed at the Compound, then kindly looking away while Peter wipes his eyes. 

Bucky is last, and even Natasha is surprised by how well the two of them get along. Bucky’s more pop culture savvy than he’s been letting on, and in turn Peter’s honest cheer puts him at ease almost immediately. By the end of the meal they’re arguing agreeably about the best halloween episode of some comedy show about cops, Peter bent over Bucky’s metal hand with a mini-screwdriver, tightening a loose joint Bucky had mentioned was bothering him. 

“You what, keep that sort of thing on your person at all times?” Natasha asks, more surprised than she probably should be. 

Peter seems to agree, because his response is a mildly incredulous, “Uh,  _ duh _ .”

* * *

Rhodey never joins them, even though Natasha knows he knows what’s been going on. 

Tony is always nowhere to be found, on days when a lunch takes place.

* * *

Natasha’s walking with Steve and Sam, the three of them headed off to the gym, vague notions of sparring in mind. Bucky and Rhodey are already there, according to FRIDAY, and she thinks idly that maybe they can try a group exercise. They used to organize practice skirmishes all the time, the whole team coming together for joint training, running battle simulations and getting into ridiculous contests. 

As if reading her mind, Sam snorts a little. She looks at him. “What?” 

“Just thinking about that time Tony and I tried to see who could fly fastest, and he got caught in the rope wall.” 

She smiles. “Hmm, I seem to remember it went more like  _ Redwing _ slammed him into the rope wall-”

“Nah, that’s not it, you must be mistaken-”

“Oh really-”

“We should go get him,” Steve says. 

“Yeah, we should,” Natasha agrees, after a beat. 

They reroute, headed for Tony’s usual lab. The three of them step through the doorway in tandem, doors sliding smoothly open with barely a whisper of noise, and freeze. 

Tony’s got Peter pressed against a table, one arm looped securely around his waist, the other hand buried in his hair, kissing him with devouring ferocity. Peter’s clutching Tony’s face in both his hands, one of his legs hitched up over Tony’s hip, the other hooked around his calf, holding Tony in place as he returns the kiss with equal intensity. There’s a few tools and papers scattered on the floor, and a chair is tipped on its side. 

“Um,” Steve says. 

Peter tears himself away from the kiss with a gasp, head whipping around to stare at the three of them in the doorway, eyes widening in shock. Tony takes a second to register the cause for the disruption, swaying forward again, reflexive, before he realizes they’re there. When he does, he takes several quick steps backward, nearly tripping over the chair in his haste to put some distance between his own body and Peter’s. 

“Um,” he says. 

“What the fuck, man?” Sam says. 

That breaks Peter out of his horrified stupor. He pushes himself away from the table, head ducked, to snag a beaten-up old backpack and thick file from an adjacent workstation. He skirts their group with a muttered “excuse me”, darting out the door before any of them can think to stop him. 

Natasha doesn’t hesitate; she goes after him.

* * *

She expects to need to chase him, potentially all the way back to Queens, but instead she finds him as soon as she turns the corner into the corridor that leads from the labs to the living quarters. He’s leaned against a wall, backpack at his feet, file dropped on the floor, contents spilling out onto the carpet. Peter’s head is in his hands, and he’s gripping his hair so hard she worries for a moment he’ll pull it out. 

She approaches him cautiously, not wanting to startle him. He looks up when she’s only a few paces away. His eyes are red but, surprisingly, dry. 

She sighs, resting a hand on his shoulder. She squeezes for a long moment, and he rolls his head with a deep sigh of his own, rubbing a cheek against the back of her hand. Then she releases him and stoops, sweeping the scattered papers back into the folder. They’re notes, SHIELD work, presumably, an annotated diagram of what looks to be some kind of weaponized drone. 

She shoves the folder into his bag, then holds it out to him. 

“C’mon kid,” she says, when he takes it. “There’s ice cream in the common area, and I don’t think we’ll be seeing anyone around for a while.”

* * *

“You all think of me as an adult, right?” Peter says abruptly, scraping his spoon against the bottom of his ice cream carton. 

Natasha looks at him out of the corner of her eye, keeping her body turned towards the screen, where they’ve got  _ Rogue One _ playing. “That’s different, and you know it.” 

“It’s really not.” 

“None of us are your boss. And none of us knew you when you were a kid.” 

“Nothing happened between us back then. Not even- I wasn’t even on his radar until I was well over 18.” 

Natasha sighs and twists to face him fully. “Peter, there’s more to it than just the date on your driver’s license. Tony was responsible for you-” 

“He’s not responsible for me.  _ I’m _ responsible for me.” He sets his now-empty carton down, meeting her gaze firmly. “I know how it looks, okay? I know. That’s why I- when it all came out, I stayed away. Told Ms. Potts to take me off the books, even though she didn’t like it. You know I completely ghosted Tony? Didn’t reply to any of his texts or phone calls. I know he thinks I was mad at him, but I really, really wasn’t. I just knew that if I stuck around, people would keep talking, and they’d never stop. And you guys were supposed to be coming back, and Rhodey was so mad he wouldn’t even be in the same room as Tony, and I knew you all needed to be able to focus on getting the team back together, and none of that could happen if I was still around, with all my- with everyone-” 

He breaks off, breathing hard. Natasha watches him, her face falling into a practiced mask of neutrality without her telling it to. She doesn’t know what to say to… any of that. 

Peter scrubs a hand over his eyes. “So I know responsibility, okay? Coming here today was stupid. I thought he could help with- I thought we could figure out- whatever, it doesn’t matter. We can’t be around each other, and that’s- that’s fine. It won’t happen again. But you all have to- I need you to stop  _ punishing _ him for doing what I asked him, okay? He’s- he only ever did what I asked him.” 

He stands, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Thanks for the ice cream.” 

He’s out the door before Natasha can think of a single thing to say.

* * *

Natasha joins Rhodey on his morning jog, a few days after the incident in the labs. He smiles at her in greeting when she falls into step next to him. She can hear his legs whirring faintly as they go, smoothly keeping up with the steady, loping pace. 

She doesn’t say anything until they’re on the second loop of the grounds. “So Tony’s in love with Peter.” 

He doesn’t falter. “Yeah.” 

“And Peter’s in love with Tony.” 

“Kid’s been in love with Tony since he was fourteen.”

“And this has never been about Peter being a gold-digger, or trading favours for career advancement, or Tony going after the pretty young thing and damning the consequences.” 

Rhodey huffs out a breath. “I know this whole-  _ thing _ \- is complicated, if that’s what you’re getting at. Tony still shouldn’t have done what he did. He needs to answer for that.”

“You honestly think he hasn’t? You look at him and you don’t see a man suffering for his choices?” 

“I don’t want him to  _ suffer _ , jesus christ Nat-” 

“But he  _ is. _ ” Natasha puts on a burst of speed to get ahead of Rhodey, turning to jog backwards so she can look him in the eye. “I’m there with you, you know we all are. But we can’t keep going on like this, I know you know that too. You heard about what happened the other day?” 

Rhodey glares at her, exasperated. “Everyone heard about what happened the other day, Nat.” 

“So everyone should be pretty clear on where we’re at, right? This thing where they try and fail to pretend like they’re not miserable apart and the rest of us try and fail to pretend like nothing is going on at all? It isn’t helping.” 

“So what, the Avengers have a kumbaya session?” 

“Maybe, if that’s what it takes.” She slows to a stop, waits for him to slow too. Catches his eye. “Peter reminded me, after we caught him and Tony, that regardless of how we feel about the situation, he’s an adult. And we can either treat him like an adult, or we can treat him like a child. But we can’t do both, James. If we’re all so concerned with protecting him that we dismiss his choices, what exactly are we protecting him from?” 

Rhodey looks away, across the grounds, and she sees the muscle in his jaw twitch. Before he can come up with a response, both their pagers go off.

They’re getting called to Assemble. 

* * *

There’s a water monster controlled by some kind of crazy wizard attacking Manhattan, apparently. 

It’s not far from where SHIELD’s base in the city is, and agents are working with local law enforcement to evacuate the island while they wait for the Avengers to arrive. They’ve got people in a helicopter, recording a live feed to the quinjet so they can monitor the situation and strategize before they arrive. 

“So we hit the ground running,” Steve is saying, focused intently on the image being projected before them. “Wanda, Vision, Thor, you’re our best bets for containing the monster. Tony, Rhodey, Sam- I want you all going after the wizard. Bruce, Nat, Bucky and I will stay in the jet for now, monitoring and keeping an eagle’s eye view of things. We’ll hit the ground to help with evacuation if we need, but for now SHIELD and the NYPD have it under control. Everyone got it?” 

There’s nods and grunts of affirmation from everyone, except for Tony. He’s standing at the back of the jet, in his armour, away from the rest of them. 

Steve pauses. To Natasha’s knowledge, they haven’t spoken two words to each other since the lab incident. He sounds tentative when he prompts: “What, Tony, no digs about us letting you do all the work?” 

Natasha recognizes an olive branch when she sees one, and so does Tony. His mouth twitches into an approximation of a smirk. It looks like it hurts. 

“Well, what else is-  _ what the fuck? _ ”

Everyone startles at the sudden shout, but he ignores them. He lurches forward, hands shooting out to grip the edge of the quinjet’s holo-table. “FRIDAY, analyze. Tell me I’m not seeing what I think I’m seeing.” 

“Yes Boss. You are certainly not seeing Spider-Man fighting a 70 foot tall monster that appears to be composed of water.” 

Natasha steps forward as well, breath catching in her throat. FRIDAY’s highlighted a slim figure in the projection, jumping and flipping in mid-air, shooting webs into the dark, churning mass of the creature’s center. 

What Natasha can’t see, however, is what in the hell Peter is jumping and flipping  _ off of _ . 

“Is that thing- solid?” That’s Bruce, pushing his glasses and leaning in, as if he could divine the composition of the creature from images alone. 

“FRIDAY, connect us to Karen.” 

“Connecting, Boss. It may take a moment; some sort of electromagnetic pulse is interfering with my communications.”

“Spider-Man’s name is... Karen?” 

Natasha shakes her head at Bruce. “His suit’s name is Karen.” 

“ _ His suit? _ ” 

“How do you know that?” Tony’s voice is quiet, but it cuts through the rest of the team’s startled questions like a knife. 

Natasha raises a brow. “He told me.” 

Sam snorts. “Is this some kind of spider solidarity thing? When did you even meet Spider-Man?” 

She shrugs. “I go out. I meet people.” 

Before anyone can ask her anything else, FRIDAY connects. Immediately, the sound of Peter’s voice, distorted by a vocal filter, fills the cabin. 

“Wait, shit,  _ Karen I said decline _ \- uuuhhhh hello?” 

Steve clears his throat. “Spider-Man. Situation report.” 

“Oh geez that’s really official- okay. Um. There’s this guy and he’s got these, like, drones and holograms? And-” 

“That’s a  _ hologram _ ?” 

“Uh- yeah it is. Except for the drones are weaponized, so-  _ oof _ \- it’s kind of not, I mean, the damage is real, so-” 

“That’s what you’re standing on, then? Drones?” 

“Yeah, I think if I can get close-  _ shit _ \- close enough to get inside the hologram, I can take-  _ ugh _ \- I can take them all down.” 

“Spider-Man, are you all right?” 

“Peachy! Just gotta keep moving! It’s fine!”

Everyone in the cabin exchanges looks. Rhodey looks worried, in particular. Tony, on the other hand-

Tony has put his face plate up. 

Steve clears his throat. “So the wizard is fake, too?” 

“I mean he’s kind of real, his name is Quentin Beck. But he’s not where it looks like he is-  _ oh fuck that was close-” _

“Spider-Man?” 

“I’m good! Anyway I think he’s in a building around here- uh, somewhere. He can’t be- can’t be too far off, to control the drones. Oh! And he’s got a crew! They’re in a warehouse a few blocks away, I webbed ‘em up already. Beck had run off with the tech before I got there.” 

There’s an odd expression spreading across Steve’s face, the longer Peter talks. “What does he want?” 

“Well I guess he initially had this plan to like, join you guys? By manufacturing threats and then swooping in to “save” people? Which was-  _ fuck _ \- kinda dumb in my opinion, it’s not like Nat wouldn’t have figured him out in like two seconds-” 

Natasha looks around at the team, all of whom are listening intently to Peter. Realization is dawning on more than just Steve’s face.

“Anyway so, um, that didn’t work because I figured him out? And he knew I was coming for him, but it’s not really the whole “hero” thing he cares about so much as the “notorious” thing, so I guess he figured villainy was as good a claim to fame as any-  _ oh damn fuck that’s a car- _ ” 

Natasha checks the quinjet’s console. “We’re three minutes out, Spider-Man. Hang in there.” 

“I’m good!” 

Steve clears his throat. “How’d you figure him out?” 

“Oh.” For the first time, Peter sounds a little nervous. “Um- he tried to recruit me?” 

“Recruit you.” That’s Tony. He sounds hoarse, even through the slight tinniness the suit gives his voice.

Peter is quiet, except for his harsh panting as he jumps from drone to drone, for a long moment. “Yeah. So, his operation is also made up of ex Stark Industries employees? And they all kind of hold a grudge?” 

“Jesus christ,” Sam mutters, quietly. He looks a little shell shocked. 

Tony’s voice is low. “And he approached you, thinking you’d have a reason to... have a grudge too.” 

“Yeah,” Peter says. His voice is firm when he continues: “But he was wrong about that. Like, really, really wrong.” 

Natasha looks at the console. 2 minutes. 

Tony clears his throat. “You were- you still could have come to me, with this. I would have helped you. I thought- I thought I made that clear.” 

“Um, so, here’s the thing. I kinda… tried?” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“I-  _ kid _ -” 

“ _ Shit _ \- I have to go, I’ve almost got it, and I think Beck knows it-” 

Natasha leans forward, voice urgent. “Wait, hold on, we’re almost there-” 

“I’ve got this! Get Beck, he’s got to be close by, I’m sure FRIDAY can scan for him in the nearby buildings-” 

“Wait-”

“Kid-” 

“ _ Peter _ -” 

“-Karen, Blackout Protocol.” 

The line goes dead. 

Tony makes a noise of pure frustration and turns towards the quinjet’s loading bay, propulsors already firing up. Steve steps into his path. 

“Steve, not now-” 

“You’re right. Not now. We can deal with-  _ that- _ later. But the plan stays the same, alright? You fliers go help against the drones, in case whatever he’s doing doesn’t get all of them. The rest of us will find Beck. FRIDAY?” 

“Scanning nearby buildings, Captain.” 

“Steve, I can’t just-” 

“Do you trust him, Tony? Do you trust that he knows what he’s doing?” 

Tony’s reply is instantaneous. “Always.” 

Steve nods. “Well, so do I. So. We trust him.” 

Tony turns his head. His face is still obscured, but he’s clearly looking around the cabin. One by one, each member of the team nods their head in agreement, until his gaze lands on Rhodey. 

He hesitates for a long moment, face inscrutable. Then: “Yeah. We trust him.”

* * *

The quinjet comes upon the scene of the attack in time for them all to see the image of the water monster begin to dissolve before their eyes. Peter’s falling through the air, shooting bursts of electrified webbing at clusters of webbed-up drones, and with each burst, a larger portion of the illusion fails. 

The flying portion of the team leaps into the fray, lighting up the scene with the blaze of Rhodey and Sam’s guns, Thor’s searing lightning, Wanda’s red crackle of energy, and Vision’s piercing beams of light. 

Peter shoots a final web, this time aiming for the struts of the bridge the “monster” had been attacking, but he misses. He shoots another, which gets cut off by a burst of drone fire. Another, which misses again. 

He’s falling too fast to stop himself. 

Natasha reaches for her earpiece. “Guys, someone get to-”

Peter shoots another web into the air, just in time to snag on the chest plate of Tony’s armour as he swoops into view, a red and gold blur. 

“Got him,” Tony says. 

Natasha smiles. “Seems like you do.” 

FRIDAY’s voice crackles over the comms. “Target located. He’s on the bridge.” 

Natasha looks over to Steve and Bucky, sees their nods of confirmation. Bruce has taken over from the autopilot, now that they’re within the city. “Alright. Let’s go, boys.”

* * *

Things wrap up pretty quickly. 

Beck is nothing. The three of them tear through the drones protecting him like tissue paper, so fast he doesn’t even have time to throw up an illusion. Destruction of his- frankly ridiculous looking- headset takes care of the remaining drones, and soon they’re handing him off to the SHIELD agents who come swarming back onto the scene. 

After that, all that’s left is cleanup. 

They help for a while, rounding up the now-inert drones for transport back to the Compound, but SHIELD shoos them away fairly quickly. The damage to the surrounding area was thankfully not extensive- due largely to Peter showing up fast enough that the drones had switched their focus to killing him almost immediately, which is a nice thought that Natasha enjoys- and having the high-profile Avengers around is more of a hindrance than a help. 

They all troop back to the quinjet. It’s not until they get there that they realize Tony and Peter are nowhere to be found. 

“FRIDAY?” Steve asks, concerned. 

“Boss asked me to inform you he’s taken Mr. Parker back to the Compound, for medical attention.” 

“Is he alright?” 

“His wounds are largely superficial. He has two broken ribs, a third degree burn on his right leg, and multiple contusions across his body, but nothing Mr. Parker’s healing factor won’t take care of within a few days. The medical team has already attended and released him.” 

Natasha lets out an inaudible sigh of relief. 

They take off. In the jet the trip is less than ten minutes, and five elapse in total silence before someone says anything. 

It’s Rhodey, turning to Natasha. “I’d wondered if you didn’t know about Spider-Man, too.” 

She doesn’t try to stop from smirking. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Peter is god-awful at keeping secrets.” 

He snorts. “No kidding.”

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around this,” Sam says, shaking his head. 

Bucky hums, thoughtfully. “Let me guess- Spider-Man leads to internship leads to love affair?” 

Natasha jolts a little bit at the phrasing. “ _ Love affair? _ ”

Bucky shrugs, unselfconscious. Natasha remembers then, vividly, that he was born in 1917. 

Rhodey shakes his head, but not in denial. “That’s about it. Spider-Man  _ was  _ the internship, until the little idiot nearly got himself killed and Tony decided to turn it into the real deal to keep a closer eye on him.” 

Natasha looks around. “Does Spider-Man make this better or worse?”

Bruce raises his eyebrows mildly. “You’ve known longer; you tell us.” 

She shrugs. “I don’t know. And I don’t know that it would change anything, besides.” 

Nobody has anything to say to that, and they finish out the flight in silence.

* * *

They disperse when they land at the Compound, agreeing to meet up shortly for lunch. 

Natasha heads to her room for a quick shower and change. The mission hadn’t been particularly taxing, but it was August and there had been dust and smoke in the air, and she felt grimy. 

When she’s done, she runs into Steve and Rhodey in the hallway, and the three of them head off together, debating idly about whether they want to order in or cook. 

“Listen, as long as it’s not Steve doing the cooking, I don’t care.” Natasha says as they step through the doors to the common area. 

“Hey, I resemble that-” He stops abruptly, staring.

Tony and Peter are stretched out on one of the couches, Tony on his back, Peter curled up half on top of him, fast asleep. 

“...remark.” Steve finishes, faintly. 

Or at least, Peter is asleep. Tony’s eyes fly open at the sound of their entrance, his entire body stiffening. The hand he has buried in Peter’s curls flexes, briefly. Peter makes a faint unhappy noise, turning his head to thrust his nose closer to the curve of Tony’s neck. Tony’s eyes flicker down to Peter, checking to see if he’s still asleep, and Natasha can see him force his body to relax again. 

“Uh… he was tired.” Tony says quietly, after several beats of silence. 

Rhodey sighs. Tony winces. 

Then, Rhodey strides over to one of the other couches, grabs the blanket hanging off the back of it, and settles it over Tony and Peter. Tony snaps his eyes up to look at him, something like a question hovering in his eyes. 

“Of course he’s tired, he just did an entire Avengers team’s worth of work. He needs rest,” Rhodey says, keeping his voice low. He reaches down and pokes one of Tony’s cheeks, directly under his eye socket. “And so do you. You look like shit.” 

Tony blinks. Rhodey raises an eyebrow. 

“...whatever you say, pooh bear,” Tony says finally, with a small smile. “Sorry for worrying you.” 

Rhodey snorts. “Worried isn’t the word, asshole. We’ll wake you when lunch is ready.” And he stomps off into the kitchen, apparently ending their takeout-versus-cookout discussion. 

“That was sweet,” Natasha says, then snickers when Steve shushes her. 

“Ignore her, Tony. Get some sleep.” 

Tony smiles. “Aye, Cap’n.” 

Natasha turns away to follow Steve into the kitchen, but pauses in the doorway separating the two spaces. She looks back. 

Tony has turned his gaze back to Peter, watching the minute changes that play across his face while he sleeps. His one hand is stroking through Peter’s curls, the other rubbing small circles on his back. He looks… Incredulous. Joyous. 

Grateful. 

After a moment, he seems to realize that Natasha is still there, and his eyes flicker back up to meet hers. She holds his gaze for a long moment. Looks to Peter, then back to Tony. 

He nods, slightly. Message received. 

She twitches him the smallest of smiles, then turns back to rescue Rhodey from Steve’s attempts to help with lunch. 

They’ve got more conversations ahead of them: real ones, frank ones, hard ones. But this is a start. 

For the time being, it’ll do. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I would absolutely love to hear what you thought- please feel free to drop a comment, if you're so inclined.
> 
> edit 26/02/2021: i created an anon collection for my work, so other stuff by me can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/anon_works_by_e) ~~when i eventually post something else agdjgjshdhdjajd~~
> 
> and you can follow me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/eafterdark) now too! for updates on my writing, prompts, etc. and also just to like, hang or whatever. i like friends!


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